Articles from Cheeseburger Gothic
And unto hard rubbish ye shall return.
I had a bit of a day yesterday. I was scheduled to visit my dermo to get a bunch of stitches pulled after a skin cancer excision about two weeks ago. There were a lot of stitches, and I was looking forward to seeing them out. Unfortunately, they were infected, so my five-minute visit turned into one-and-a-half hours of faffing around and a prescription for some antibiotics. I may have to go back again next week because I had a second growth that turned out to be a subdermal carcinoma.
Jason Lambright has a great piece over on his Patreon that he’s made free. It’s a chapter and character analysis from his latest book, but worth reading on its own because of the way he discusses trauma and what separates soldiers from the rest of us.
It wasn't until the 1980s that the US Department of Veteran's Affairs recognized Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as a legit disability.
Like a version...
Stole my faves from The New Yorker. It’s funny because it’s true. Also: enraging.
Greatest ending to a lost dog story ever.
It had been 36 hours since Bailey the dog disappeared. Her new owner and the animal shelter where she had lived for more than a year knew that every second that passed dimmed the likelihood that she would be found alive.
Gen Z break up.
Can confirm from parental observation.
Dear Sirs, I never thought it would happen to me, but...
… I’m quite looking forward to the Bing update that bakes in OpenAi’s generative mojo.
Somewhat unimpressed with my cheap, shitty paring knife.
We were given a half-decent knife block as a wedding present a long time ago, and over the last year or so I’ve gradually been replacing the knives as the handles die. I’ll confess to buying cheap arse replacements. I’m not a chef. I don’t mind sharpening the blades. I’m not gonna drop five hundred dollarydoos on new ones.
But this is ridonkulus. The steel is fine but the new handle split after a couple of months.